


Scars Are Road Signs on the Map of Your Life

by Scriptor



Series: What Do I Do Now That You're Gone? [1]
Category: WWE, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: A little sappy, Blow Jobs, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, One Shot, ambreigns - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-05
Updated: 2019-08-05
Packaged: 2020-08-09 23:20:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20125501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scriptor/pseuds/Scriptor
Summary: Roman couldn't stay away for too long, even after Jon left for AEW





	Scars Are Road Signs on the Map of Your Life

**Author's Note:**

> My attempt at piecing together what it would be like for them in different promotions. I honestly think it would be just like Jon to up and go without really rectifying anything but totally like Roman to check up on his boy too. Sorry it ended in an ultra cheesy way.

Getting tickets to Fyter Fest was no trouble at all. Roman just had to ask a friend, who happened to be Cody. They went way back in WWE so he had no qualms about handing him a pass.

“Why only one though?” Cody asked on the phone. Roman was just getting in his rental after a Raw show so he had to lower his voice and fib a little.

“I just want to check out what you’re pushing over there. And I’ll be in the area.”

“Ok man, you got it. I can probably scrounge up something close to ringside. I’ll leave it at will call for you.”

Roman didn’t like lying – to anyone – but he had to. He had zero plans that involved the Daytona Beach area but it was only about a two and a half hour drive. And it’d be worth it to surprise Dean, er, Jon. He kept forgetting he’d gone back to using his real name and the Moxely moniker once he broke free from the grips of WWE. Roman wished he’d stayed but he knew the man was all-out fed up and couldn’t take one more day in that promotion.

After his exit, Roman had tuned into his appearance at the end of the first AEW pay-per-view and his subsequent New Japan appearances. He couldn’t remember the last time Jon looked that happy, that unshackled. He looked comfortable in his own skin, finally free to be himself. It pained him that they were apart now but sometimes you gotta do what’s best and breaking away from WWE was what Jon needed.

Maybe it was cheesy; maybe it was dopey and had all the tells of a pining lover, but Roman didn’t care as he pressed play on his Mox Spotify playlist. Sentimental? Yeah, guess so. But all the songs made him think of Jon. AC/DC, The Doors, Judas Priest; not his normal fare but it was stuff Jon insisted on listening to and it grew on him over time. Now he _wanted_ to hear it, to think about the guy. Iggy Pop came on as Roman got caught up in a little Orlando I4 traffic.

_Now I'm ready to close my eyes_  
And now I'm ready to close my mind  
And now I'm ready to feel your hand  
And lose my heart on the burning sands

Roman subconsciously tapped along to it, thinking about how they’d made love to that song once in an Indiana hotel somewhere, late at night, in the dark. Jon had uttered those words close to Roman’s ear, ‘I wanna be your dog’, he’d said. He commanded, ‘Do your worst.’ Under Roman’s hands, Jon got the healing through punishment that he craved, that he needed.

It had been a while since they last saw each other; the months before he left had been a hot mess anyway; fraught with strife as Jon pulled away more and more. They never did have a realistic or feasible relationship. It had grown more out of the fact that they _always_ traveled together. And that time spent in cars and hotels rooms had afforded them some semblance of togetherness. But work and wives and the public continually got in the way. He wished it could be different; that they could get back to that feeling – the closeness, the comfort of each other’s company. Truth be told, he couldn’t put words to what they even had but he damn sure missed it.

Tonight, at the payperview, Roman would play it cool; wear a hat pulled low and cover his tattoo. He’d try to blend into the crowd as best he could. He wasn’t sure how Jon would feel knowing he was there anyway. Something had been fractured between them and he had no idea how to mend it.

The crowd at the Ocean Center was chaos personified; fans everywhere, a different kind of vibe but one that exuded the same wrestling fan mentality with which he was familiar. The WWE hadn’t had real competition in a long time and maybe this would push Vince to make changes. Roman parked nearby and wove his way through crowds surreptitiously. It was weird being on the other end of things; the fan side. He couldn’t remember the last time he_ attended _an event instead of _being_ the event. His heart raced as people bumped into him on the busy sidewalk in front of the arena. No one seemed to notice it was even him; guess the hat, sunglasses, and long sleeved shirt hid him well enough. Or everyone was that oblivious. Or worse still, no one cared. But that was fine by him; he wasn’t there to be seen. In truth, he didn’t even want Jon to know. But he had to see what was happening. He heard rumours that his match tonight was supposed to be pretty hardcore, probably bloody.

He procured his ticket that was clearly marked and waiting at the booth and wove his way inside, finding his near-ringside seat easily. He was situated at a corner so he didn’t have anyone to his left, just a wedge of empty space near the commentary table. Clearly Cody knew that Roman wasn’t trying to be obvious with his presence there that night. As the lights went down and the show began, the energy of the crowd was palpable; they too were looking for high quality entertainment that was different than the crap McMahon was peddling these days. They put on a good show, he had to admit. When Justin came out to announce the final match, Roman admitted to himself he was nervous, a little uneasy in the stomach.

When Mox’s entrance package rolled, Roman’s heart sunk to his stomach; he looked so beautiful, so fit. For a second, he had the uncontrollable urge to shout his name, to alert Jon to his presence. Not that he would have heard him over the deafening roar of the crowd. The way Jon bounded down the ramp, so confident and exuberant had Roman’s heart racing with excitement. The match started off easy enough. Janela was the right kind of asshole to pair up with Mox. Their back and forth made sense and again, Roman thought about how happy Jon looked to be doing his thing.

A few minutes into the match, they took the fight to the crowd, showing off their ability to work them over, build the heat. They got dangerously close to his seat a couple of times and for one mere moment, he thought Jon may have seen him but no, he couldn’t have. He was laser focused on pulling off the best possible fight he could.

When the tables came out, Roman didn’t worry. But when the folding chair wrapped in barbed wire appeared, he admitted to being a little squicked. Who would take the hit? Janela claimed to be Mr. hardcore but Roman knew Jon’s penchant for pain, his history of hardcore matches in CZW; their TLC matches in WWE. And when half his back landed right on it, Roman cringed for him. The carnage continued as boards of wire were employed, as the bag of thumbtacks made an appearance. Luckily, Janela took the brunt of it but on bare feet, and Roman had to actually look away. Jon brought the match to a close with a pin and Roman could tell he was hurting, that the scowling and pained expression on his face wasn’t all for show. Then, as Jon was headed backstage, Kenny Omega ambushed him, laying into him with trash cans and even jumping on him pinned beneath a broken table. Roman knew this was to build to their eventual feud but damned if he wasn’t angry and itching to get to Jon, to help him, to heal him. He never had any intentions of talking to him; he was just going to drive home with the knowledge that Jon had well and good moved on with his life. But fuck that. When people began filing out, Roman made his way to the barrier and walked his ass right through the curtains to Gorilla, trailing Jon at a safe but close enough distance. He knew he had no business being there but who the fuck was gonna stop him? He ran headfirst into basically everyone who’d recognize him but just kept going.

Nick asked the room, “Where’s _he_ going? What’s his deal?”

Cody just shrugged, knowingly. “To Jon. Typical.”

Using instinct and years of arena knowledge, he located the locker room. Roman had to stop himself for a minute; Jon was over by a bench, packing up a bag. He wasn’t showering, wasn’t cleaning himself up. He wasn’t even doing anything about the cuts on his back; reckless as always. Roman slid behind a support beam and watched the other man. Jon winced as he sat down to remove his shoes; sat back up straight, the pain clear on his face.

He removed his cargo pants, revealing tight black boxer briefs and Roman’s heart literally stuttered in his chest. There were more cuts and some bruises but his body still did things to him – he was so beautiful. He maybe shouldn’t have said anything at all but he just couldn’t help it. The way he whispered Jon’s name sounded reverent, like a prayer. But it was enough to make the other man notice him standing in the doorway.

“Whatchu doing here?”

“Watchin’ a fight. Hellofa match.” He said, taking a few steps into the room. It isn’t like things were weird or bad between them. They’d just been… apart – living their own lives. When they’d parted, it was an understanding that it was an on-hold kind of situation. Didn’t mean it didn’t hurt like hell though.

“Thanks. What ya doin’ now?” Jon asked, still packing up.

He leaned over to the bag and audibly gasped; Roman could see that one of the cuts low on his back was wider than the others and it must have opened when Jon’s torso twisted. Roman couldn’t help but move towards him. He scooted Jon over on the bench and began assessing each slice and scratch. Giving him a disapproving look, he batted his hand away from the bag. Looking through everything in there, he sought any kind of antiseptic or antibiotic cream and some butterfly closures.

“You don’t have to –“

“Yeah I know I don’t.” Roman tutted, finally finding all the items he’d been seeking. He took some hydrogen peroxide and doused a couple cotton balls. Tentatively, he pressed cool cotton to Jon’s skin. The blood washed away, leaving the true state of each gash, each slash marring the tanned skin that already bore scars from matches long since passed. Once each one had been thoroughly cleaned, Roman took the little tube of Nesoporin and dabbed it onto the wounds. For each of the larger ones, he affixed a bandage, pulling the skin taut so healing could begin. When Roman was done with each wound, he could see and feel Jon’s entire body relax, the tension clearly leaving him. He suddenly leaned back into Roman’s chest, allowing himself to be enveloped by the other man. Roman put his arms around him, careful not to hurt him any further and held him close.

“Missed you.” Jon mumbled, not looking at Roman but burrowing deep into the embrace.

Roman kissed the top of Jon’s head and hummed. “You gotta be more careful.” he whispered. “Hate to see you hurtin’.”

“It’s nothing I haven’t done before.”

“I know, but still.”

“You came to check up on me then?” Jon asked, partly thankful, partly angry – that much was clear in his tone.

“I had to.”

Roman realized that the pain they each sustained in matches before – in and out of the SHIELD – was really nothing compared to this and that, also, the ways in which he normally cared for Jon came as a result of his own doing: when Roman cracked the whip, he eased the burning sting with his hands and aloe. But this was different. This was something Jon had to seek out to fill in the cracks from their fractured relationship. And it was partly Roman’s fault; he let him go. He was absent for too long and the void was becoming larger and larger between them.

“You didn’t have to.” Jon whispered. “You coulda stayed away, made it easier to… forget.” He still wouldn’t look at him but his tone conveyed everything.

Roman turned him around so to see his face and it was the most dejected look; Roman couldn’t believe he’d failed to take care of his boy or maybe he just realized that this was something Jon truly still wanted – this… whatever it was… between them.

With a resigned sigh, Roman admitted, “I know, I should have been around more. That’s on me. I failed you. But can I… make it up to you?”

Jon searched his face for traces of authenticity, finding truth behind his eyes. “Please.” Roman said almost silently, turning around and getting on his knees in front of Jon on the bench. In a move of desperation, of humility, of surrender, Roman leaned in close to Jon’s lap, wrapping his arms around his waist and laying his head down near where Jon’s growing bulge kicked beneath the tight fabric. He nuzzled closer to the hard length of him, mouthing at his head, creating a lewd wet spot on the briefs.

“Yesss…” Jon hissed, shifting slightly to allow Roman more space to work. Roman eased the waistband down, just enough for Jon’s cock to spring free and Roman leaned up on his knees to gain access to it, swallowing it down in one quick movement, almost all the way. Jon gasped at the sudden sensation and shot his arms out to the side to brace himself.

“Holy… fuck I missed you.” He admitted, gritting his teeth and allowing the sensations to wash over him. Roman loved the heft of him on his tongue, straining his mouth wide. He took in as much of him as he could, turning, twisting, angling to please Jon as best he could. The way he squirmed under Roman’s ministrations told him he wasn’t far off from release. That and the small grunts of satisfaction he made each time Roman nearly popped off. He loved how Jon’s legs quaked each time Roman laved at his leaking slit, the tang keen on his tongue. It was exactly as Roman remembered him tasting and that in itself was a comfort. Jon suddenly grasped Roman's head, threaded his fingers in his hair, and held him in place, pumping his hips forward, once, twice, then stuttered, his climax hitting hard on Roman’s tongue. Not missing a drop, Roman pulled back, licking his lips and looking up at Jon, a mix of love, adoration, and pride in his expression. “It doesn’t make up for me being an asshole and not coming to you sooner. But…”

“No,” Jon started, hoarsely. “No, it was… great. You’re here now; that’s what matters. Now, where we going next?” Jon asked with a devious grin.

“Burgers and beer?” Roman asked, standing up and offering a hand to Jon.

“Sounds amazing.” Roman helped Jon gather his regular clothes, inspecting his back one last time, then the two left through a side entrance. Underneath the now quiet night and the half moon over the Atlantic, Roman took solace in the fact that they were reunited, at least for a little while. Who knew what would happen going forward - with his career, with Jon's. But for tonight, they had each other.


End file.
